


By Her Side

by B1nary_S0lo



Series: Rora Surana [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Broken Up Alistair/Female Warden, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Post-Break Up, Post-Landsmeet, Unrequited Crush, Unresolved Romantic Tension, pre-Battle of Denerim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6871177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B1nary_S0lo/pseuds/B1nary_S0lo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Rora's relationship with Alistair ends, Zevran would give anything to see her smile again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Zevran knew something was wrong the moment he saw Leliana leaving Rora’s room, and caught the expression on her face.

“I take it she is not coming with us tonight?” he said, walking over. There’d been discussion amongst the group of gathering at the tavern to celebrate their success at the Landsmeet.

Leliana shook her head, and answered, quietly: “She’s not in the mood.”

Zevran frowned. “Something has happened?”

Leliana looked around, then motioned for them to move away from Rora’s door. She led him into a corridor off the main hall, and turned to face him. When she spoke, it was in an undertone.

“It’s Alistair,” she said. “He’s left her.”

Zevran blinked, too shocked, at first, to respond.

“You can’t be serious,” he said. “Why would he do that?”

Leliana sighed. “She wasn’t very coherent, but it sounds as though he didn’t think he could be king and remain with her.”

She met his eyes, and he could tell both of them they were thinking more or less the same thing. They’d each moved in royal circles, and the human leaving the elf, or the noble leaving the mage, was an old story. They’d just never expected it to apply to Alistair and Rora.

Zevran shook his head.

“Alistair will change his mind,” he said. “Perhaps they can’t marry, but there are other ways.”

Leliana crossed her arms, mouth pinched.

“Rora seemed to think he was quite set on the decision,” she said quietly.

Zevran swallowed.

“Should we stay with her?” he said. He realized that both of them were speaking in whispers, as though someone had died.

Leliana frowned as well.

“She said she wants to be left alone,” she said. “But, I’ll let Wynne know what’s happened. Rora might speak to her.”

Zevran nodded. Leliana gave him a sad smile, and left.

After she’d gone, he stayed rooted to the same spot for what felt like ages. His mind was a torrent of unclear thoughts and confused emotions.

In idle moments, he’d sometimes fantasized about a scenario like this one: Rora’s relationship with Alistair ending, all obstacles cleared. But in his imaginings it had always been under happier circumstances. He would never have wished for something like this.

He glanced in the direction of her door. He wanted desperately to go to her, to see how she was and comfort her if he could. But Leliana had said she wanted to be left alone. And, besides, he wasn’t the one she wanted to be comforted by. She’d already made that quite clear.

He turned and headed for his own room, his thoughts still on Rora. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so helpless.

 

They all looked up anxiously when Rora entered the hall for breakfast the next morning. Everyone knew by now, and Zevran could practically feel all of them trying not to stare. He, too, tried to keep his attention squarely on his porridge, but he couldn’t help stealing a glance or two at her.

She didn’t look good. Messy, uncombed hair. Skin pale, eyes ringed with red. There was something fragile about her appearance, like a strong gust of wind might have knocked her back completely.

As he watched, Leliana hurried forward and ushered Rora over to her own table, where Wynne sat as well. He quickly turned back to his breakfast, ashamed to have been staring. It was heartbreaking to see her like this.

They all looked up again when Alistair entered the room a few minutes later. Zevran was grimly pleased to see that he looked no better than she did, ill-rested and fidgety. Served him right. Zevran had never been able to dislike Alistair, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to forgive him this.

Alistair kept his gaze on the floor as he hurried over to a table on the opposite side of the room. For a time, the hall was filled with nothing but the sounds of eating and snatches of nervous conversation.

Then, the creak of a chair pushed back from a table echoed through the space. Again, everyone looked up. Zevran briefly locked eyes with Ohgren, whose spoon hovered inches from his open mouth. All of them turned toward Rora who, in spite of Leliana’s and Wynne’s clear attempts to stop her, was crossing the room to Alistair’s table.

They watched, with a kind of horror, as Rora stopped beside Alistair’s chair, eyes on the ground. She said something to him, too quiet to hear. He shook his head, not looking at her. She spoke again and, after a long pause, he pushed back his chair, stood up, and followed her out of the room.

Everyone rapidly turned back to their breakfasts. Aside from some scattered muttering, no one spoke.

Alistair came back not long after, visibly upset. He mumbled something, gathered up his barely touched breakfast, and left.

Rora did not return.

 

As the days passed, things didn’t seem to be improving between Alistair and Rora. Not when they readied themselves to leave, and not on the road to Redcliffe. Camp was painful. The two didn’t make eye contact, avoided one another completely. Well, not completely. Zevran suspected that they probably spoke to one another at the various meetings on military strategy they attended, but he wasn’t invited to such things. All he knew was that, in camp, the mood was somber, almost funereal.

It was Rora’s behavior that bothered Zevran most about the situation. All the life, all the joy, seemed to have gone out of her. She no longer made her way around camp to talk to her companions, no longer read by the light of the fire. She hardly spoke at all, in fact. She retired to her tent early and rose as late as her duties allowed. Even Leo, her Mabari, couldn’t seem to lift her spirits. He’d never seen her like this, not for their entire journey. He would have given anything just to see her smile again. Anything at all.

 

He’d been trying to keep his distance. He didn’t think she would appreciate his particular brand of charm and humor in her current state. But, one evening, that changed.

The others, worn out from days of rapid marching, had already retired to their tents, but Zevran was still up, sharpening his daggers by the light of the flames. He’d been neglecting such matters these last few days—there’d been too much else on his mind—and he really couldn’t put it off any longer.

But, then, he looked up from his task and noticed that she hadn’t gone to bed with the others either. Instead she sat, silently, on the opposite side of the fire.

Her short brown hair hung down around her face, hiding her expression. Leo sat at her side, nudging her elbow with his nose in an obvious attempt to get her to pet him. She didn’t look up, didn’t even move. She was the very picture of hopelessness and dejection.

Zevran frowned. He looked back at his work, then back at her.

Without a second thought, he put his daggers aside, stood up, and circled around the campfire to where she sat.

“My, my,” he said, crouching down so that he knelt beside Leo. “What have we here?”

Zevran scratched Leo behind the ears and the dog panted happily, tail thumping against the grass. Rora looked up, blinked, as if coming out of a dream. The circles under her eyes were dark and deep. For all the time she’d been spending in her tent, he wondered how much she’d actually been sleeping.

Zevran continued to pet Leo. “I wonder what is going through his mind?” he said. “Perhaps he is calculating the exact speed he must run to catch a distant squirrel. Or, perhaps, he is contemplating when he will receive his next delicious dog treat.” He shrugged. “Who knows?”

He glanced up at her. She didn’t say anything, but he definitely saw the corner of her mouth turn up, just slightly. Even seeing that made his heart beat faster.

He turned back to Leo and put his hands on either side of the dog’s face, furrowing his brow in an expression of intense concentration. “What is that, my friend?” he said. “Ah, I see. I shall tell her.”

Zevran turned back to Rora. “He says… he hates to see you so unhappy and…” Zevran furrowed his brown and pressed his ear to Leo’s head, as if listening, “he says… he would like to bury his face in your bosom to cheer you up.”

Now Rora actually did laugh, a short hiccup that seemed as much from surprise as humor. “ _Zev!_ ” she hissed.

“I do apologize, my dear,” he said. “Our poor Leo is but a beast, and does not know how one should speak to a lady.”

Leo barked, as if affronted. Rora tilted her head. She still looked tired, but now there was definitely a smile on her face.

“In contrast to, say, you?” she said.

Zevran placed a hand over his heart.

“Of course,” he said, “I am the very soul of discretion. Of courtly manners. You ought to know this by now.”

Rora giggled again, covering her mouth. Zevran sat up straighter. He’d actually made her laugh. _Twice._ He had to keep this up somehow.

“Your reaction wounds me deeply,” he said, still clutching his heart. “Would you prefer I behaved more like Leo, crawling in the dirt at your feet?”

Leo whined. Zevran wrapped an arm around his neck, and, facing Rora, and stuck out his lip in a pout to match the dog’s.

“Oh, cruel mistress,” he said. “Is there nothing we can do to melt the ice in your heart?”

Rora’s own lip trembled, then, the laughter she’d obviously been trying to stifle burst out. She laughed so hard she actually doubled over, clutching her chest. Zevran straightened up, wearing his own grin.

“I had no idea I was such a competent entertainer,” he said. “I should take my talents to the road and entertain small children for petty coins.”

“No, I…” She gasped, trying to catch her breath. “I just…”

He pouted at her again, and once more she bent double, shaking with laughter. It was so infectious he almost did so as well. Then, footsteps.

“Is everything all right out here?”

They both looked up. Leliana stood nearby, concern in her voice. Her dress was slightly unbuttoned, as if she’d just been getting ready for bed. She looked from one of them to the other, and her expression of worry evaporated into one of confusion when she seemed to register the smiles on their faces, the flush to Rora’s cheeks.

“Oh,” she said. “You _are_ all right. Thank goodness, I thought maybe you were crying.”

Rora straightened, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry if I worried you. Zevran was just cheering me up.”

She shot him a smile. A warm shudder ran down his spine, but he managed to keep his expression even, his easy smile intact.

“It’s no trouble,” Leliana said. She briefly squeezed Rora’s shoulder. “I’m just glad to see you’re enjoying yourself.” She looked at Zevran again, then back to Rora. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course.”

With one last curious glance over her shoulder, Leliana headed back to her tent.

The two of them sat in silence. Rora turned her gaze back to the ground, hair once more blocking her face from view. Zevran too, looked away. He felt a bit overwarm around the neck and ears, despite the chilliness of the evening.

Rora sighed. Zevran glanced over at her.

“I ought to head to bed too,” she said. She narrowed her eyes, face settling back into thoughtful worry. “I have an early meeting tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he said.

She seemed about to rise, but then, she turned and smiled at him again. Faintly, but sweetly.

“Thanks for making me laugh, Zev,” she said.

He scratched his head. “Of course, dear Rora,” he said. “It is my pleasure.”

She grinned once more, stood up, and headed for her own tent, robes whispering behind her and Leo trotting at her feet. Zevran watched as she approached her tent, opened the flap, and headed inside, closing it only after Leo had come in after her.

Zevran turned away. He sighed. Her voice, her words, still echoed in his mind.

_Thank you for making me laugh._

He chuckled softly. Hope bloomed in his chest for the first time in days.

Maybe there was something he could do for her after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after Alistair broke up with my Warden in Origins, she ended up having this little mini-romance with Zevran that I found quite moving.
> 
> And then. Um. Events transpired.
> 
> You'll see :/


	2. Chapter 2

It was evening the next day before Zevran got another chance to speak to Rora. The generals—who included, he supposed, her and Alistair—kept them marching at a frantic pace in their efforts to beat the Darkspawn to Redcliffe. She also remained at the front of their group, while Zevran was stuck in the middle with the rest of their companions. It wasn’t until they stopped and made camp that he even saw her.

He nearly didn’t, though. He happened to be walking by the edge of camp when he noticed twin glints of light coming from the shadows in the tall grass. He took a careful step toward them, fearing they belonged to some wild animal, when his own night vision kicked in and he spotted her.

“Rora?” he said.

She sat with her back against a tall tree, half hidden by the foliage. A book rested, open, in her lap. When she heard him she glanced up, freezing in place.

Zevran looked around.

“Whatever are you doing back here?” he said.

She hunched her shoulders.

“I was just…” She sighed. “I just needed some quiet.”

“Oh,” he said. “Do you wish me to go?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s all right.”

He looked around once again, then moved into the tall grass and took a seat in front of her. He glanced at the open book.

“What are you reading?” he said.

He didn’t mention how relieved he was to see her doing so. He’d never met anyone with as much of a passion for reading as she had, someone who pulled out a book and in the middle of the Frostbacks, or crouched in a dungeon hiding from assassins. Someone who, when those she helped insisted on offering payment, asked to be paid in books instead of money. The fact that she’d stopped reading lately had worried him, perhaps, more than anything else.

She closed the book, folding the corner of the page to mark her place, and handed it to him. He took it and squinted at the cover in the dark.

“ _Does this Book Have Griffons in It_?” he read. He glanced back at her. “An interesting read?”

“It’s about the Grey Wardens,” she said. “Alistair gave it to me before…”

She trailed off.

“Perhaps now is not the best time to read such things,” he said quickly.

She looked up at him through her hair. “It was for research,” she said. “I was hoping there’d be something in there about Archdemons. Something useful. But it’s just tales for children.”

“I see,” he said. He looked at the book once more, then set it down on the grass. “Well, if there’s no useful information to be found in it, then perhaps you should read something else.”

“I don’t have anything else,” she said. She tilted her head, then smiled slightly. “Unless you had something in mind?”

Zevran frowned, thinking, then looked up with a grin.

“I will _tell_ you a story,” he said. “A tale of murder, or perhaps lust. Or both.”

“I don’t think I’m in the mood for lust or murder tonight,” she said. There was a laugh in her voice.

“That is unfortunate, then,” he said. “My tales involve little else.”

Rora frowned thoughtfully, then straightened up, leaning a little closer. He half shuddered, wondering if the warmth he felt came from her, or from within.

“Tell me a story about you,” she said.

He chuckled, and hoped she couldn’t tell how nervous he was.

“I’m sure you’ve heard every one of my stories by now,” he said.

“Not every one,” she said. “You still haven’t told me why you—”

She cut off suddenly, perhaps catching the way his face had fallen. Seeing her obvious mortification, he quickly changed the subject, both to save her embarrassment, and for his own sake. He was still far from ready to discuss why he’d left the Crows.

“I know,” he said. “I will tell you about the time I rescued a child from the wheels of an oncoming cart. That is one of my few tales of lighthearted heroism.”

She laughed, clearly glad that the topic had moved past her slip of the tongue.

“Is this a true story?” she said.

“You will have to judge that for yourself,” he said.

He began, gladdened by the sound of her laughter ringing out in the night.

 

It was another week before they reached Redcliffe, and during that time Rora seemed to seek Zevran out at every opportunity. When she wasn’t meeting with the generals, seeing to war preparations, or tending to any of the other host of things required of her as Warden Commander, she was by his side. She’d appear wordlessly out of nowhere, falling into step beside him on the trail, or claiming the seat nearest to him at the fire. When they were together, when he told her an amusing story or joke, he could see the sadness fall away, her whole being lighten.

He tried not to read too much into these recent developments, tried not to hope or even think too much about them. Their moments together, just talking, were treasure enough. He wouldn’t ruin them with expectations, especially when he knew such thoughts would only lead to disappointment later on.

 

It didn’t take long for the rest of their companions to notice how much time he and Rora were suddenly spending together. Such notice usually came in the form of curious glances from Leliana and Wynne, or, once during a particularly lively discussion, a slurred “Get a tent!” from a hungover Ohgren. Once, he even spotted Alistair looking at them, blankly, from the other end of camp. Zevran felt a momentary stab of sympathy for the other man, but it was only momentary. It was difficult to feel sad when she sat so close, close enough for their knees to almost touch. When she gazed at him so raptly, smiled and laughed because of him.

The day before they were due to reach Redcliffe, Zevran was warming his hands by the fire when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up, grinning, but instead of Rora he was surprised to see Wynne standing over him. Her expression was pleasant enough, but it was perhaps his Crow training that allowed him to catch the dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Zevran,” she said, voice even, “I’d like a word, if you please.”

He got to his feet. “Of course, my darling Wynne,” he said. “Anything for you.”

She rolled her eyes. His grin remained, but he felt the same coldness, the same drop in the stomach, he might have felt if he were child about to be punished for wrongdoing.

He followed her away from the fire. They stopped in front of her tent, and she turned to face him. Any pleasantness in her expression was gone now.

“I can’t help but notice that you and Rora have been spending a lot of time together, as of late,” she said.

“Have we?” he said. “It is difficult for me to remember, when so many others desire my attention.”

She crossed her arms. Her mouth was a thin line.

“None of that now, Zevran,” she said. “I’m not in the mood.”

He chuckled nervously. “What are you in the mood for, then?” he said.

She sighed heavily. “I simply want to ask you one thing,” she said. “What are your intentions towards Rora?”

The grin on his face froze.

“My intentions?” he said. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” she said.

He could tell she was losing her patience now. He cleared his throat.

“I have no intentions,” he said, truthfully. “I simply wish to lift her spirits.”

Wynne raised an eyebrow. “And that’s all?” she said.

He met her piercing gaze, unflinching.

“That is all,” he said.

Wynne’s posture relaxed slightly, but the sternness in her face didn’t completely fade.

“Good,” she said, “because that poor child doesn’t need any more heartbreak.”

The words hit Zevran harder than he would have expected. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach, like he’d missed a step while walking up stairs. He struggled to keep his expression, and voice, neutral.

“I agree completely,” he said.

“I do hope so,” said Wynne. Her eyes narrowed. “For your sake.”

With that, she turned and stepped inside her tent. He was sure that, had her tent flap been a door, she would have slammed it shut behind her.

Zevran turned back toward the fire. He shivered, but not because of the cold. He headed back to his own tent, distracted and troubled. It wasn’t until he was lying in his bedroll that he realized he’d forgotten to bid Rora goodnight.


End file.
